


Are You Pro-Bono, or Just Happy to See Me?

by deinvati



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Dom/Mal (mention), First Meetings, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, bottom!Arthur, crack-fic/porn bait and switch, it's like 5k of one sex scene, seriously, so much porn, top!eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 22:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: Mal's divorce lawyer introduced himself as Eames, but Arthur had a hard time getting a read on him over her and Dom's constant squabbling. Between their immature antics and Eames' lackadaisical approach, Arthur resigned himself to dealing with the most difficult and drawn-out divorce proceeding of his career. He already knew he was going to hate every moment of this.Sometimes, though, it's good to be wrong. Sometimes long and hard is the way you want it.





	Are You Pro-Bono, or Just Happy to See Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teacuphuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/gifts).

> Written for the lovely teacuphuman, who is amazing, so we give her what she wants.
> 
> My thanks to [Flos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flosculatory/profile) for betaing, and for using incognito mode to figure out if hard-on is hyphenated. (Apparently, it is! Who knew?) Get you one who goes the extra mile.

"You've got a new client consultation at 9, and I picked up your dry cleaning."

Ari handed him a pink slip with the details of his new client in her barely-legible chicken scratch.

Arthur sighed. "I told you, you don't have to do that."

Ari just grinned. "And I told you. The only reason I do it is that it's on the way, and plus, I'm angling for that promotion."

"And I told _you_," Arthur grinned back, swinging his dry cleaning over his shoulder, "promotion to what? There are literally two jobs in this office, and I already get the coffee."

"Mmm," she said around the lip of her venti macchiato he'd set on her desk. "And you're so good at it. Keep it up, and one day I'll let you get muffins too."

Arthur rolled his eyes and closed the door to his office behind him. Not because it kept any kind of sound out or discouraged her from entering unannounced, but because it was literally the only perk to being the boss around here.

The pink slip said someone named Dan was coming to meet with him about filing for divorce. Or maybe it was Don. No last name, and seriously, Ari. He couldn't very well get started on any paperwork if he didn't even have a first and last name. Arthur sighed and settled in to start pulling forms anyway.

It turned out it wasn't Dan _or_ Don, but Dom, short for Dominic. Handsome, plenty of assets to lose if Arthur didn't do his job correctly, and a complete fucking basket case.

"She's just so... you know those women? Who just… ugh. You know?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Not really. So, you're going to be the one to file? Or do you know if she's already filed? Because that's important."

Dom shook his head. "She keeps talking about it, but who knows what she actually means? She can't get supper on the table for the kids, but she can sure as hell tell me how to run my business when she doesn't even _work_ there." He squinted off into the distance.

"Right, that must be very frustrating. So anyway, I have these forms. I need you to answer some questions so we make sure to get you what you want out of this unfortunate—wait, you have _kids_?"

"Yes, two," Dom said, distractedly.

Arthur, who had been talking with this man for an hour, just sighed and pulled out another form. "Well, we're going to need to define what you'd like for custody, visitation schedules, and what you'll owe for child support, along with the alimony you'll likely pay."

Dom just blinked at him. "Child support? Oh, no. I want full custody. Didn't you hear me? She's crazy!"

"Sorry, you want… full custody? But you forgot you even had kids for the last hour."

Dom looked at him like he was insane. "I didn't forget. I'm kind of going through some stuff here if you hadn't noticed."

_You and everyone else who's sat in that chair_, Arthur wanted to snap. He had a job to do, one he would be getting paid well for, but apparently first he needed to convince this guy he cared about the stuff he was going through. Probably just as much, if not more than, he cared about the job he was supposed to be doing. He folded his hands on top of his blotter.

"I'm so sorry," he said, swallowing. "Would you like to… talk about it?"

Dom heaved a sigh, slumping in the chair. "Yes, I really would. Thank you, Arthur. You're a good friend."

"Oh, we're not—"

"I met Mal in Paris…"

* * *

Arthur stacked the papers he'd completed neatly in front of him, one set for Dom and himself, and one set for Dom's future ex-spouse and her legal representation. Arthur checked his watch.

"You said you talked to her about the meeting?" he asked Dom.

"Hm?"

Arthur looked at the man in rumpled khakis, unshaven, worrying the inside of his lip, and felt a little bad.

"Hey," Arthur said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay. You'll get through this."

To Arthur's horror, Dom started to tear up, and Arthur jerked his hand away like he'd hit the wrong switch.

"Arthur," Dom said wetly, "I don't know if—"

The door to the conference room burst open, held open by a man in an awful blazer for a polished and pressed woman to enter. She was lean, brunette, and gorgeous, and when she introduced herself as "Malorie Miles," her accent was French. She was a knockout.

Arthur stood to shake her hand, and Dom just glared from his chair.

"Malorie Miles?" he said, disgusted. "You can't even wait until we're actually divorced to stop using my name?"

She didn't respond, just looked somewhere over his head, her neck long and elegant.

The man entering behind her slapped a scuffed-up leather briefcase in the middle of the table and held his hand out to shake.

"Hello! You can call me Eames. I'm Mal's lawyer."

Arthur took in his warm British accent and shook his hand. It was warm, dry, and calloused, and staying there as Eames continued to hold on. He sounded very proud to be introducing himself as a lawyer, and Arthur wondered how long he'd been doing this.

"Arthur," he said, wondering how soon was too soon to gently remove his hand from Eames' grip.

Eames just grinned at him, his teeth charmingly crooked. He finally let go to shake Dom's hand with a hearty, "And you must be Dom! I've heard a lot about you," and Arthur's hand felt suddenly, stupidly, bereft. He clenched it and cleared his throat.

"Well, now that we're all here," he said quickly, handing over the documents, "I just need you to review the petitions and forms so we can file them today."

Eames and Mal looked at each other and Arthur's stomach dropped. With a sinking feeling, he kissed his early afternoon goodbye.

Mal's glare at Dom was icy. "What could you possibly have put in those documents? We have discussed nothing!"

Arthur looked back and forth between them. "Well, this is preliminary, so we can always make tweaks. But it would be good to get some of the easy things out of the way upfront so we can have—"

"And what about any of this," she spit out, swishing a hand to indicate the entire room, "seems easy to you?"

"Well, uh," he said carefully, "we could just start with the Certificate of Dissolution of Marriage. It indicates Dom is getting full primary custody of the kids, and it just needs a—"

Mal hissed, literally _hissed _at Dom, before spewing a string of enraged French at him.

"English!" both Dom and Eames barked at the same time.

"Full primary custody!?" she gaped furiously. "Of my children?!"

"They are _our _children," Dom argued.

"Are you sure of that?" she seethed, and there was a tense awkward silence as everyone stared at her. She glanced around the table with a scowl. "Of course they are," she said, waving her hand. "But would he even have wondered? I could get a man like _that_," she said with a snap of her fingers. "I could get a _real _man, one who knows what he's doing when it comes to making children."

Dom flushed red and Arthur assumed he was enraged, until he held his hands up in a blockade, obstructing Arthur's view of his face, and whispered, "You cannot bring that up. We said we weren't going to ever talk about that again."

Arthur, for whatever reason, glanced at Eames, because this wasn't really happening, was it? Please let there be at least one other sane person in this room with him. Eames, however, was staring at Dom like this was a sitcom and he had front row seats, his eyebrows in his hairline.

Damn. He was going to have to be the only fucking grown-up in this room.

"Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Cobb," Arthur said, placatingly, but this wording, of course, sparked outrage, and he spent the next five minutes agreeing to call her Mal and him Dom, and nothing else. "Look, can we just start talking about filing for divorce? We need to file today if we're going to get these done before the long weekend, and—"

"Mal, can I please see you in the hallway?" Dom asked, squinting at her viciously.

Arthur paused. "Uh, Dom, I don't think that's really—"

"You are such a child," she said, but she was pushing out of her chair and heading for the door.

Arthur looked to Eames, who hadn't said anything to his client and didn't appear to intend to. Dom and Mal left the room, Mal's head held high, and Dom closed the door behind them with an angry clatter.

Arthur drew himself up a bit and straightened his papers. Across from him, Eames leaned back in his seat, studying Arthur outright.

Arthur ignored him as long as possible, until he finally snapped, "What?"

"I've heard of you, you know," Eames said, completely unperturbed.

"Yeah?" Arthur said. "Congratulations." He did not give in to the desire to ask what, exactly, Eames had heard about him, and from whom, and why he'd come up in conversation.

"You're a fierce man to face, Arthur," Eames added, grinning. "I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, but this is going to be fun."

Arthur looked at him, bad jacket, loud shirt, beat-up briefcase still sitting square in the middle of the conference table and tried not to assume that insanity ran in his family genetics. "Fun?" he asked. "This seems fun to you?"

He didn't specify which part of this he found particularly distasteful, but Eames didn't seem to care. He just smiled more broadly and rocked back in his chair.

"You know," Eames said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "we could just fill out the paperwork ourselves and work it into the conversation with an 'as you two previously agreed.' Just to see if they'll roll with it."

Arthur frowned. "That's extremely unprofessional and immoral as well."

Eames winked, and that probably meant he was joking. Or it could have meant he agreed and still wanted to do it. Arthur frowned some more and adjusted his tie.

Eames checked his watch, a clunky gold piece that Arthur would have removed with a handkerchief if he'd found it touching his skin. "Well," Eames announced, "we might be here a while. How long have you been an attorney?"

Arthur opened his mouth to tell him it was none of his business and he didn't fraternize with the opposition, but what came out was, "What do you mean we might be here a while?"

Eames took a stick of gum out of his jacket pocket and popped it in his mouth, winking again. Arthur frowned. This was going to be a problem. They were going to need to work on their communication.

He checked his own watch and cleared his throat, hoping Eames would forget his "get to know you" line of questioning if he ignored him long enough. It appeared to work because Eames rose from his chair and wandered to the window, lifting the blinds with a finger and peering through. Whatever he saw or did not see didn't apparently warrant a verbal response, and Arthur noticed the way his neck sloped into his shoulders and how that loud shirt with the too-wide lapels open at the throat showed it off really well. Which was completely unprofessional and he ripped his eyes away immediately.

There was a clunk against the conference room door from the other side, and Eames turned toward the sound, letting the blinds fall back into place. He cocked his head at the door but didn't move to open it, and Arthur raised his eyebrows, wondering if Eames was really going to wait for him to get up and get the door.

Then there was another clunk, softer this time. Eames didn't move, except to chew his gum and put his hands in his pockets.

Arthur held back a sigh as he pushed his chair back and stood.

"Ah ah," Eames said, softly, holding his hand out as if to stop him, but keeping his eyes on the door. "Give it a second."

Arthur would definitely be looking into his family history as soon as he got back to his office.

But as he opened his mouth to tell Eames so, there was another muted sound from the other side of the door, and then another one. And then a series of rhythmic sounds which could only be one thing.

Arthur, a grown man in a very nice suit, thank you, felt his face grow far too warm and his mouth drop open.

He couldn't help his eyes flicking to Eames though, who was already looking quite smug and putting his hands back in his pockets. He inclined his head toward the door as if to say, "Did you still want to check?" and no, thank you, Arthur did not, in fact, want to check. What he wanted was for the floor to open up and swallow him. Or possibly Eames, so he wouldn't have to look at his face, laughing more at Arthur's clear discomfort than at the INSANE SITUATION THEY WERE IN, GOOD CHRIST HOW IS THIS HIS LIFE RIGHT NOW?

Arthur gritted his teeth and looked everywhere but at the door, which continued to bump against the frame, and Arthur told himself he should be thinking about how this probably meant he was going to lose his client and the paycheck which went along with him. Instead, all he could think about was how long it had been since he'd gotten laid. Not that he was in a relationship. Of course, Dom wasn't technically in a relationship either and it didn't seem to be hampering him.

Eames, the bastard, just kept watching him, and Arthur wanted to tell him to stop it, but that meant he'd have to acknowledge that it made him twitchy. Finally, Arthur, having run out of places to look, pulled his chair back out and sat down, defiance in his eyes as he dared Eames to keep mocking him.

And Eames, still a bastard, sat in the chair across from him, gaze still heavy on Arthur's, except instead of laughing, he was just staring, a small smile on his lips, just for Arthur. He didn't look away, and Arthur didn't either. Eames cocked an eyebrow and his lips curled even more, and all Arthur could do was swallow, trying not to lick his lips in response.

The sound at the door sped up, and Eames acknowledged it with a head tilt. Arthur squirmed in his seat. His face was still far too warm to believe he wasn't blushing like an idiot, and he was trying to be angry, but instead, he was getting uncomfortably turned on. God, this was mortifying. The last thing he needed was a semi in these suit pants; they were tailored within an inch of their life. Damn. He found himself looking away, anywhere but at Eames, thinking of anything except the fact that two people were more than likely fucking only a few feet away, and there was a hot lawyer sitting across from him looking extremely interested in his response to this.

Arthur grabbed his pen from the table, intending to make it look like he was going to get something done, work, or... something. He took the pen cap off and then put it back on. Fuck.

Eames just watched him, an amused twist to his lips, but his gaze was hot and heavy on Arthur, and Jesus, they had to be about done, right? He checked his watch, and it made Eames laugh. A light chuckle, which showed his teeth, and made his eyes crinkle, and Arthur found himself smiling back, just a little. He rolled his eyes in commiseration and Eames chuckled again. Arthur wondered what Eames would sound like if he laughed out loud.

There was an odd sense of camaraderie between them, literally trapped in this room by their bickering clients, who were taking a quick break for a quickie in the hallway. Arthur was going to bill for a servicing fee. He felt like he deserved it. Maybe he'd use the money to go out on a nice date.

There was a tempo change to the noise in the hallway, like they'd changed positions, or had to pause for a muscle cramp, or one person had pulled the other's head back by their hair to kiss them down their throat. And then bite their shoulder. And make them wait for it. Then ease back in, so slowly, until they were desperate and panting.

Arthur swallowed.

He wondered what Eames was like in bed. He didn't _want _to wonder. The question just popped into his head, and then wouldn't go away. Arthur tried to think about what he looked like doing something annoying instead. Like... picking his nose. Or being rude to old ladies and waiters. Or changing the oil in the car and getting his clothes all dirty. And oily. Maybe he'd have to strip down to just his undershirt and tie the arms of his coveralls around his hips, showing off his arms. He looked pretty strong. He could probably hold a partner up, propped against a wall. He would look pretty good folded in half too, though. Arthur wondered how flexible he was.

Aaaand, he had to stop. He took a deep breath. This was not a healthy line of thought for someone who would like to be able to walk out of this room at some point. Fuck. Baseball. Dead kittens. Depositions. Yes, depositions. Very unsexy.

He could easily picture Eames in a courtroom. Arthur didn't put a lot of stock in performance as a lawyer's measurement of worth. He trusted in facts, the law, his research. But he could just see Eames getting a jury to eat out of his hand. He would be all smarm and charm and they would all be half-in love with him by the end of his opening remarks.

On the other hand, he thought, watching as Eames chewed his gum, shifting it to hold it between his front teeth, he could picture quite a few scenarios for being charmed by that mouth. He would look incredible on his knees.

Eames narrowed his eyes in amusement, raising an eyebrow at Arthur's staring, and Arthur didn't know what to say. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips. The motion made Eames' gaze drop to his mouth, eyes intent, and he chewed his gum slowly, watching Arthur's lips. Arthur shifted in his seat and swallowed.

"Arthur," Eames said, and God, his voice. Rough and low, and curling intimately around the 'r's. Yeah, Arthur could handle hearing that voice in his head. And in his bed.

Except that the door, which Arthur had completely forgotten about listening for, opened, and a very sweaty and further-rumpled Dom walked in. Behind him, her hair hastily and clumsily put back up, Mal came in, reapplying lipstick and looking completely unperturbed.

Dom cleared his throat. "Sorry about the wait," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Where were we?"

Arthur stared at him. "Uh, you mean... Are we still...?"

"Proposal for the Dissolution of Marriage," Eames said smoothly, "we were discussing who was going to file."

Mal put her lipstick back in her bag and pressed her lips together like she was just here to support Eames and was already bored. Dom frowned theatrically in thought.

"Well, I suppose we should probably talk about that and get back to you," Dom said. "Arthur, can you email me a list of the things we need to work out, and Mal and I will discuss them?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. Definitely billing him for that email.

"Alright, so we're done here!" Dom announced. He hadn't even sat down after coming back in the room. He rapped his knuckles on the table and went back around to take Mal's elbow. "We will call to set up a meeting for next week, yeah?"

Dom nodded at both Arthur and Eames and then held the door for Mal as she left. Arthur gaped after them with something between awe and disgust, watching them leave with Dom's hand on the small of Mal's back before the door swung shut behind them.

Eames stood, and pulled the gum out of his mouth with his thick fingers. With a snick of his tongue on his teeth, he dropped it in the garbage can and then met Arthur's eyes.

"Well," he said.

"Yeah," Arthur agreed and stood to gather his papers. Then he started to smile. Then he couldn't stop. Ari would never believe this. A small giggle huffed out his nose and Eames, opening his briefcase, was grinning too. The harder Arthur tried not to laugh, the harder it was to keep it inside, and before he knew it, he and Eames were both laughing with tears in their eyes. Eames had one arm across his middle, sagging under the weight of his laughter, and Arthur braced himself on the table because how had that just happened?

Then Eames took the few steps around the table and the laughter in Arthur's lungs dried up.

He stepped into Arthur's personal space, one wide hand touching him carefully on the jaw. "Arthur," he said again, his eyes on Arthur's mouth, and Arthur swallowed.

"Yeah?"

"How would you," he murmured, leaning closer, "like to get... coffee?" God, how could he just turn on pure sex like that? Especially in those slacks?

"Um-hmm," Arthur agreed, staring at Eames' plush mouth, wondering how he tasted, how he'd move underneath him, how he'd sound groaning Arthur's name. He would like a coffee. He'd very badly like to get coffeed. He'd like to get coffeed so hard he couldn't remember his own name.

Eames looked at him knowingly, heat in his gaze, and pulled Arthur to him by his tie. His mouth hovered over Arthur's, slightly parted, bottom lip tantalizingly close to his. Arthur froze, hands wrapped around biceps, trying not to pant.

But Eames didn't kiss him. What he did was grin, and then run one thumb along the ridge of Arthur's hard-on, trapped tightly in his pants and laying against his hip.

A high, needy sound snuck out and Arthur closed it off with a click of his throat. So, Eames had noticed then.

"So, should we get coffee right now?" Eames said, his lips brushing Arthur's. Then his thumb _pressed_, and Arthur's hips bucked.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, holding very still. "Fuck."

There was a huff of breath on his face as Eames laughed at him. "You must really like coffee."

Arthur's eyes snapped open. Oh, two could play that game. He narrowed his eyes and squeezed the biceps he'd been hanging onto. Then with a shift of his weight and a spin on his heel, he pulled Eames around and slammed him into the wall. Eames' mouth found his at the same moment, kissing him back and anticipating the way Arthur pressed his tongue inside, letting him take and take.

Eames' wide hands grabbed Arthur's ass, pulling him to grind up against him, and Arthur groaned into his mouth. God, he could come just like this. Hot and gasping up against the wall, rubbing off against Eames' hip? His dick twitched at the thought, and Arthur shoved his hands up under that god-awful shirt, skimming over abs and pecs and wiry hair. Fuck, nevermind. He wanted Eames shirtless, and he wanted to come on that chest, warm droplets mixing with his chest hair so he'd have to smell Arthur all afternoon until he could shower.

Eames wrapped a hand around the back of Arthur's head, changing the angle of their kiss, and zinging fire along Arthur's limbs. Shit, yes. Maybe he wanted Eames' hand twisted in his hair, feeding him his cock and making him choke on it. He could already feel the ache in his jaw and the burn in the back of his throat, and he _wanted _it.

Eames slid one solid thigh in between Arthur's legs and started this slow roll of his hips that was taking Arthur's brain offline. Arthur panted into his mouth, fingers finding his nipples and tugging. It made Eames throw his head back, the long line of his thick neck exposed to Arthur's seeking lips, and fine, okay, nevermind. Arthur wanted to straddle him, wrap his fingers around that throat and ride him until he screamed.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Eames purred in his ear, one hand on his ass and one hand tightening in his hair, and he didn't give Arthur a chance to respond. With a shove, he turned Arthur around and pushed him face down on the conference table.

Arthur's breath fogged up the wood and yes, _yes_, yesyesyes. _This_. He wanted this. A high moan worked its way up his throat and he arched his back. Eames didn't disappoint. He made quick work of Arthur's pants, dragging them down his thighs but leaving his briefs in place. Then he grabbed Arthur's wrists, pinning them to the table as he breathed in his ear.

"You stay right there, Arthur," he growled, and Arthur's cock jumped, even pressed into the hard surface. He whimpered and nodded and Eames pulled away. He could hear the clang of a belt buckle and the sound of a zip and then he was back, the weight of a cock Arthur hadn't even gotten to _see _yet resting on his ass.

Eames slowly rutted against him, hands spreading him apart. That roll of his hips, which had driven Arthur crazy before, was now infuriatingly not enough. He clenched his hands into fists and rested his forehead on the table, pressing back just a tiny bit, just as encouragement.

_Slap._

The crack of Eames' hand on his bare skin, just where his ass met his thigh, had no reason to be so fucking hot. No reason at all. Usually, Arthur didn't get off on spanking, but _fuck_, he wanted to rip his clothes off and _present _himself.

"I said stay right there, Arthur," Eames panted, clearly as affected as Arthur. His fingertips gently stroked the skin he'd spanked. "Unless you want me to do it again."

As tempting as it was, Arthur shook his head. "No. I want you to fuck me," he demanded, his voice low and husky. That was all it took. Eames pulled his briefs down and knelt behind him in one movement like he'd been waiting for Arthur to ask.

Arthur spread his feet as far as his pants would allow and laid his hands flat on the table. The first breath over his hole made him clench in anticipation and he took in a slow breath, condensation gathering on the wood. A warm, wet finger circled him and he breathed out, reveling in this, waiting. Eames rubbed him slowly with the pad of his thumb, pressing gently even as he spread him further, looking his fill. A series of kisses ending in a large bite mark on his ass cheek made Arthur grin, and he wished he could wrap a hand around himself to relieve some of the throbbing of his poor neglected cock. It had sprung free earlier, begging to be touched, and so far had been nothing but ground into the tabletop and ignored. He might have made some kind of moan about it, but he'd never tell.

Eames stood, sliding his palms up Arthur's thighs, hips, and lower back, rucking his shirt out of the way and pulling Arthur back towards himself. Arthur's cock hung freely, feeling heavy and so, so untouched. "Mmm, Arthur," Eames hummed appreciatively. "You do look so devilishly good there."

Arthur looked back over his shoulder, giving him a devilish smile. "You should do something about it, Mr. Eames."

"Oh, I intend to," he replied, a dark smirk in place, and produced a condom packet from thin air, holding it between two fingers. Arthur watched as he opened and worked it quickly over himself, then gathered saliva on his fingertips to rub on Arthur's entrance. Arthur braced himself, but Eames just rested the tip against him, circling and pressing gently, then using his thumb to gently stroke his rim. Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Touch yourself," Eames said, and Arthur obeyed with an open-mouthed sigh. Reaching under the table, stroking himself, and Eames dragging his cock over Arthur's hole, down to his balls and back up.

"Fuck, Eames," Arthur breathed into the table, rocking forward into his hand and back into that waiting pressure, wanting more.

"Shhh. I'll take care of you."

More spit, and the slow, slow press into that ring of muscle, until Arthur wanted to scream. When Eames paused, again, Arthur decided to show him exactly how much he didn't need to be taken care of. Disobeying every order he'd been given, Arthur pulled himself open with both hands and surged backward.

They both groaned and sparks flew behind Arthur's eyes. Jesus _Christ_, that was good. Finally fucked full, with the curve of Eames' dick hitting just the right spot inside him on the first try? God damned _bliss_.

"Oh, fuck, Eames, just like that," Arthur whined into the table. He adjusted his grip, pulling himself open further. "Do that again. Harder."

Eames didn't have to be asked twice. More spit and then he was pumping into Arthur, pushing little "Ah's" out of him as he slammed closer and closer to the edge of the table. Eames gripped his shoulder with one hand and his hip with the other, pulling him back instead. That roll of his hips, maddening before, was absolutely magical now. It went on and on, Eames showing no sign of backing off, and the slap of skin on skin was loud in the conference room, and _shit_, Arthur was going to come. Right now, if they didn't slow down.

"Too much," he croaked, "ah, God, too much, too much, Eames."

Eames stopped, panting. "You alright?"

Arthur braced himself against the table, his arms shaky, and tried to catch his breath. "Yeah," he nodded. "Just… intense."

Eames seemed to understand and wrapped Arthur in his arms, pulling him upright to lean back against his chest. He was still sheathed in Arthur, still technically fucking him, and yet holding him like they were already done. And it was doing things to Arthur that he didn't really want to examine.

"Just…" Arthur said, his legs trembling. "Just a little slower."

Eames kissed a line down his shoulder and nuzzled his ear, letting them both catch their breaths. Then Eames flexed his knees, driving up into him. Arthur gasped. Fuck, that felt amazing too. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes because god damn, this man. Eames fucked him like that, a slow slide while holding him close, and Arthur felt flayed open.

Eames' breathing was starting to thicken, harsher and faster, and God, Arthur wanted to make this good for him. He got his feet under him again and leaned forward, elbows on the table this time. Looking back over his shoulder, he gave Eames a smile. Eames smiled back, hands wrapping comfortably around Arthur's hips and stroking his thumbs fondly over his skin.

He rolled his hips forward just as Arthur pressed back, and yeah, that was… fuck yeah. The drag of Eames' cock in and out of him was perfect. Arthur's cock swung full and heavy in time with his thrusts, and Arthur wondered if he could come just from this. He'd sure be willing to give it the old college try. Eames' breathy panting and the sound of their fucking was so hot, and Arthur wondered if there was someone on the other side of the conference door, listening to them. The thought dragged a moan out of him.

"Gnngh, Arthur," Eames ground out. "Bloody… hell."

Arthur freed one hand and wrapped it around himself and _oh. Oh._ That.

Eames understood his wordless instructions, speeding up. He pounded into him while spitting out curses, his hands putting Arthur exactly where he wanted him. Arthur's hand flew over his dick, his mouth open in a silent scream as his orgasm slammed into him, shuddering through his body like a freight train once, twice, three times, before he collapsed chest-first onto the table.

"_Christ_," Eames gritted through his teeth, pumping his load into the condom and pushing Arthur forward across the wood, the squeak of sweaty skin sliding across the surface the perfect and most ridiculous ending to their tryst.

Eames collapsed against Arthur's back, gusting breaths into his shoulder as he tried to regain his balance. Arthur's hand was still loosely curled around his softening dick, come spattered everywhere under the conference table. Arthur started to giggle. The tension of the past few days, Dom and his ridiculous stories, the stress of this meeting, all of it rolled off him and he couldn't stop the goofy laughter rolling out of him.

Eames huffed a laugh as he held onto the condom, pulling out. "What's so funny, pet?"

"Nothing," Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "Nothing. That was just. God. Fucking amazing."

Eames tied off the condom and beamed at him. "Yeah. Yeah, it was, darling. And," he checked his watch, "we lasted longer than twelve minutes, so I'd say we're winning."

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he pulled up his pants and put himself back together. "Is this a competition?"

Eames tossed the condom in the can where he'd thrown his gum and gave him a cocky grin. "Why? Scared you're going to lose?"

Arthur smoothed his hair and gave Eames a look. "Mr. Eames. I thought you'd heard about me."

Eames raised his eyebrows in question.

Arthur closed his briefcase with a snap. "I never lose."

Eames tucked himself away, maintaining eye contact with Arthur the whole time. Then he stepped into Arthur's space again, and Arthur thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, he looked down. There, on Arthur's upper thigh, was a tell-tale droplet. Eames swiped it up with his thumb and brought it to his mouth. He knew exactly what people thought of those lips, if the way he sucked his thumb clean was any indication, and Arthur hated that it fucking worked as well as it did.

"Well," Eames said, his voice low and intimate, "we've got another match next week."

Arthur grinned. "Then I look forward to our next debriefing, Mr. Eames."

And Eames laughed out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @fiamac for the title, and the rest of the inception slack chat for the brainstorming session. Sexy lawyer puns for dayyyyys and my stomach hurt from laughing. 😂🤣😂


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